


fire in your blood and stars in your eyes

by DarkPilot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bloodburn, Canon Compliant, Dejarik, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Look I wasn't happy they made Poe a spice runner but Pablo Hidalgo tried so hard, Multi, Pre-Canon, References to Drugs, So this is for him, Sort Of, Spice, Spice Runner Culture, To fit it into the canon, Will add more tags as we go, Young Poe Dameron, unbeta'd we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPilot/pseuds/DarkPilot
Summary: Fourteen hours to Tatooine, and Finn, Rey, and Poe apparently have no idea how to play dejarik without Chewbacca. There’s something on Poe’s mind, though, and it’s been keeping him awake. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to his friends about it. Maybe, since they’re going off to bury the past anyway, he may as well clear out some of his own dirty laundry. Maybe, just maybe then, what happened on Kijimi will stop bothering him.Maybe it’s time to open up about his spice runner past.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron & Jacen Syndulla, Poe Dameron & Kes Dameron
Kudos: 23





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All right, so I (along with several others) was not happy that TROS (and all associated writers and anyone who had a say in the storyline) retconned Poe's backstory to being a former spice runner. That being said, the people who work on the new EU who have to deal with this kind of BS actually tried to fit this garbage detail into Poe's history, however vague it turned out to be. (Thank you, Pablo Hidalgo, for writing the new Visual Dictionaries and dealing with Lucasfilm's nonsense). This one goes out to their efforts. Fuck racism.

_“If this gets out, the whole system will turn upside down, and we’ll be the ones on top for once.”_

_"You’ve got to see how dangerous this is. We have to destroy it before anyone else finds out about it."_

_“Are you serious? This could change all of our lives!”_

_"At what cost?”_

_"I can’t let you walk away with it.”_

_"I could blow your brains into the snow right now.”_

_"I wish you would.”_

_“After everything I gave you, this is how you leave me?”_

_"Pretend all you like, skytrash. You’ll never be one of us.”_

_\-----_

Finn and Rey were talking quietly over dejarik when Poe woke up. He had been chasing a restless dream, though what it was, he couldn’t quite remember. He glanced over at his friends, blinking the familiar settings of the _Millennium Falcon_ into focus. “Morning, guys.”

The conversation ceased immediately, and Finn greeted him. “Hey, Poe. How you feeling?”

BB-8 rolled over from Rey’s side, D-O following. At the astromech’s urging, D-O said, “Hello.” When Poe waved at him, though, he wheeled away, stammering, “N-no, no thank you.”

Poe swung his legs over the side of his bunk, ruffling his hair. “How long was I out this time?”

“Barely half an hour,” Rey answered. “We haven’t even finished one game.”

“If it’s taking you guys half an hour to kill each other’s pieces without Chewie here, then we have bigger problems.” Poe stood up and studied the board. He blinked a few times. “You know what, never mind. I don’t even know what’s going on here.”

BB-8 bumped Poe’s leg and beeped a query.

“He’s right, Poe,” Finn said. “You okay?”

“Been sleepless before,” Poe said ambiguously. He spread his arms in what he hoped could pass for a casual, non-sleep-deprived shrug. “Scoot over.”

Finn obliged, letting Poe sit next to him as he made his next move. “When’s the last time you slept for more than a couple of hours?”

“Dunno, I don’t really count.” Poe felt the subtlest change in the air, a shift in the _Falcon’s_ atmosphere. “Hey, come on. Not cool, Rey. No Force tricks.”

“Not cool,” D-O repeated.

Rey put up both hands. “Sorry. I’m just worried, that’s all.” She glanced at Finn. “We both are.”

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” Poe insisted. “Post-battle insomnia, nothing to worry about. I’m used to it, comes with the job.”

BB-8 squeaked and chirped indignantly.

Poe glared at his droid. “Okay, that’s not fair. Humans don’t have charging stations. No tummy scratches for you today.”

“Sad,” D-O commented.

Finn put a hand on Poe’s shoulder. “What’s really on your mind?”

Poe exhaled loudly and leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. “War’s over, right? We won. No Emperor, no First or Final or whatever Order. But we also lost Hosnian, over half the fleet, lots of good people – Snap, Leia – it just doesn’t feel like we won much of anything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad there aren’t any more Sith roaming around the galaxy, for now, at least. I know we’ve got enough to start over with, and that should feel good, but . . . somehow, it just doesn’t.”

“We’ve come back from less than this before,” said Finn.

“And if anyone can lead us through all this, it’s you,” Rey added. “And you’ve got us.”

“I know.” Poe paused and shifted his attention back to the holographic figures on the dejarik table. “It’s just . . . when we were on Kijimi, you know, back when it was still around, Zorii did tell me that she wanted to get away, make a new life for herself somewhere in the Colonies. Funny thing is, she did offer to let me tag along.”

Both Finn and Rey’s eyebrows shot up at that. Rey asked, “Do you want to go?”

“What – of course he doesn’t want to go!” Finn retorted. He stared at Poe. “Do you want to go?”

“No, no, of course not,” Poe answered deftly. “At least, I don’t think so. Truth be told, I don’t really know. It does sound tempting sometimes, the idea of running off somewhere no one knows you and making a fresh start. But we’ve been through too much to even think about that.”

“Well,” Finn conceded, “wasn’t that part of why we’re heading to Tatooine right now? Make peace with the past, let old things have a rest, move on, clean slate and all that?”

“Right, but that’s different,” Poe pointed out. “You’re comparing a stepping stone to a springboard.”

“Different,” D-O agreed, wheeling into BB-8. “Different.” BB-8 squawked at him, and his head bobbed up and down. “Sorry. S-s-sorry.”

D-O wheeled off down the hallway, BB-8 following and beeping at him.

"I don’t know about you guys, but I absolutely love that little fuel can,” Finn said.

"It’s good for Beebee to have someone to look after,” Poe agreed.

“When he’s not watching you,” Rey added.

“Or you.” Poe feigned offense. He glanced at the dejarik board. “Lock, by the way.”

“I think not.” Rey steered her karkath out of harm’s way.

"Hey, no,” Finn protested. “You can’t move there. Our rancor’s next to it.”

“I believe the correct pronunciation is –” Poe made a guttural half-growl noise in an attempt to say _Ghhhk._

Finn stared at him. “That’s not Shyriiwook, is it?”

“I swear that’s what it’s called.” Poe nodded to the display. “And that’s a legal move. Ghhhk is facing the other way.”

“No, no, that rule only applies to the two-headed one over there,” Finn argued. “Whatever it’s called.”

Poe didn’t feel the need to announce that he also had no idea what the two-headed piece was called. “Well, either way, the Ghhhk’s got more defense points than the karkath’s attack, so it wouldn’t matter.”

“Right, but if I don’t spend all the movement points here,” Rey said, “I’d get an attack bonus, which would technically let me destroy your Grrrk.”

“More guttural,” Poe said. “Has to come from the throat, like _Ghhhk._ ”

"No, I think you put a little bit of a trill in there, you know, like _Grhhk_.”

“ _Ghhhk.”_

_"Ghhrk.”_

_“Ghhhk.”_

_"Ghhrk.”_

_"Ghhhhhhhhhk.”_

“If you two don’t shut up, I am going to throw something,” Finn announced. “And besides, me and Poe tried that against Chewie and nearly wound up getting our arms ripped off.” He paused and turned to Poe. “Or was that the hijoux?”

Poe rolled his eyes. “This dumb freighter has been in service for at least a hundred years, carried ten thousand and four illegal drugs, survived who-knows-how-many dogfights, and yet there is not a single dejarik manual to be found. Unbelievable.” He stood up. “I’m gonna head to the cockpit for a bit.”

“I don’t think much has changed for the half hour that you napped through,” Finn said.

Poe shrugged. “I won’t hurt anything by looking.” He gestured to the board. “Have fun.”

Hands tucked in his pockets, Poe ambled along to the _Falcon’s_ cockpit. Neither BB-8 nor D-O was in sight. Poe supposed they were probably getting lost somewhere in the _Falcon’s_ labyrinthine cargo holds. He swung a leg around the pilot’s seat – Han’s seat – and gingerly sat down, running a finger along a control panel. He was careful not to push any buttons or flip any switches. Didn’t want another hysterical argument with Rey.

Poe glanced at the nav computer. Fourteen and a half more hours of swirling hyperspace. He put his head back and sighed. If hyperspace couldn’t lull him, nothing short of a rathtar tranquilizer would.

“Hey, old girl,” Poe said softly. “Me again. But you already know that.”

Han had told him one that the _Falcon_ had a quirkier personality than most freighters of her size and build because her brain was a mishmash of two other droid brains in addition to her own. He’d said that if you talked to her, she would talk right back. Poe hadn’t really believed him at first, but some quality time with the old freighter had proven otherwise. If _Black One_ was his loyal, dependent, faithful partner, the _Millennium Falcon_ was that old adopted relative that occasionally gave helpful advice.

Speaking of _Black One…_

“I miss her,” Poe confessed. “A lot. Took me years to build her up and get her moving just right, and now she’s just gone. I mean, no hate for my new ship, I’m sure I’ll get used to her in time, but she just doesn’t feel like she’s _mine_ , you know? Not in the way _Blackie_ did. And _Blackie_ and me have been through a lot together. I hung onto her even when I defected from the Republic. She was the first ship I flew after… well, after Kijimi. She really saved my life, and I miss her. I miss being with a ship that I felt like really understood me, you know what I mean? Maybe you feel the same way about me or Rey, the fact that neither one of us will ever feel like Han.”

Poe imagined the ship’s response. _No one can replace Han Solo. If someone could, then there’d be something fundamentally wrong with the galaxy._

"Yeah, guess you’re right.”

_Of course I’m right. I’m the ship that made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs, you soft fool._

One corner of Poe’s mouth twitched in a temporary smile. “Hey, _Falcon?_ Can I ask you something?”

_Well, you wouldn’t listen if I said no, so go right ahead._

“Fair enough,” Poe conceded. He leaned back in Han’s chair, staring at the myriad of blinking lights above. “Do you think Zorii really means it, going to the Colonies, starting over? Is that something someone like me could even do? I mean, I cam this far with the Resistance to prove that I was better than what I was, to prove I could own up to my mistakes, be responsible. You know, clean up and be a decent human being for once.”

_Being a spice runner doesn’t make you a bad person, Poe._

"Maybe, but you ran with Han and Chewie once. You know the life, old girl. You can’t say it’s all good, either.” Poe closed his eyes. “Besides, the things I got myself into – I was lucky enough to get out alive. Zorii and Babu, too. Not many people survive for long in that line of work. I mean, I know I probably won’t ever get tangled in that kind of world again. Ever. I just…”

_You’re afraid of what might happen if you do._

“Yeah, I guess.”

_And you’re tired of running from what you see when you look over your shoulder._

“It shouldn’t be a hard choice, right? Like, if I stay here, I’m preserving everything the Resistance has worked towards, everything that Leia sacrificed for us. This is my home, this is where I belong. Going with Zorii would mean turning my back on people that need me.” Poe straightened up and rubbed his arm where his blaster wound had scarred over. “Lately, though, it just feels like I’ve been having to get my hands more and more dirty to protect the things and people I care about. Like, even last year, I wouldn’t have even _thought_ of going to Babu for help. But then we start having problems with Threepio, and the first place I think of is Kijimi. And ever since it got blown up…”

_You can’t stop thinking about it._

“Yeah.”

_And that’s what’s been keeping you up at night._

“What do I do, old girl?”

_Stop shoving your emotions down your throat like a repressed Rodian virgin, for one thing. And for another, it’s perfectly fine to mourn for Kijimi. The loss of any planet is devastating, and Kijimi was your home for five years, whether or not you want to admit that to yourself._

“I just figured I’d be over it by now,” Poe admitted. “But when I went back, it was hard to pretend like nothing had changed at all. Things back there just felt . . . familiar, like those habits hadn’t ever gone away. I still knew my way around, all those back alleys and streets and shortcuts and stuff. I mean, sometimes, it helps, right? Saved our lives on Passena, got the First Order off our tails plenty of times. Things I picked up there have gotten us out of a lot of trouble. It’s just...” He exhaled slowly. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s all I am, some teenage runaway pretending to be a hotshot smuggler pretending to be a Resistance hero.”

_You’re more than just the sum of your parts, Poe. Look at me, I’m a ninety-five-year-old Corellian freighter, and I’m complicated. You humans are even more so; it’s in your kriffing nature. Runaway, smuggler, hero – you can be all three. I know someone who was. And hey, you know what, you dumb human? There’s no perfect word out there that can describe you better than the others, so don’t think too much about it._

"Sure, okay.”

_You’re afraid, aren’t you?_

“Pfft, me? Never.”

_You wouldn’t be talking to me if you weren’t. You know I can’t judge you._

“Touché, old girl.”

There was silence for a while.

_They’re your friends, Poe. They’ll listen. And they won’t judge you. All three of you have had moments you’re not proud of. Finn and Rey, though – they’ve reconciled with their pasts. Finn’s never hesitated to fight on the front lines, even when it meant charging straight back into First Order territory. And Rey came to terms with her own power and bloodline and understood that neither had the capability to define her. They’ll understand, Poe. And maybe, by remembering, you will, too. You don’t have to be the only one who knows. It’s okay, Poe._

_You’re okay._

Poe chewed his lip. “Do you really think –”

_I said what I said, Dameron._

Deep breath. “Okay, then. Here goes nothing.”

_At worst, it’s just fourteen and a half hours of awkward dejarik._

Poe ignored the _Falcon’s_ final comment and headed back to the main hold. Finn and Rey both looked up when he returned.

“Everything okay?” Rey asked.

Poe nodded, shuffling onto the bench next to her. “Just chatted with an old friend.”

“How’d that go?” asked Finn.

Poe wrung his hands underneath the dejarik table. “Listen, I’ve just got a lot of stuff on my mind lately, and I was hoping to get some of that off my chest, air out some dirty laundry, the works. I mean, it’s kind of a long story, but I guess I just wanted someone else to know. If it’s okay, I mean.”

Finn reached across the table, offering his hand. Poe took it, and Finn smiled. “It’s always okay, Poe. What do you need to tell us?”

Poe inhaled and exhaled slowly. The next question rushed out of his mouth. “Y’all want to hear about my time as a spice runner?”


	2. Chapter 2

_“This I have been waiting my whole life to hear,” said Finn. Rey smacked his arm, but the three of them were grinning anyway._

_“Just a heads-up, this is probably not even half as glamorous or exciting as you think it might be,” Poe said. “Still…”_

_“It’s your story, Poe,” Rey said. “It’s always glamorous.”_

_Poe raised an eyebrow. Well, then. “Okay, in that case, the first thing you should know about was my best friend at the time….”_

* * *

To sixteen-year-old Poe Dameron, the best and only good thing about Hosnian Prime was Jacen Syndulla. Jacen was three years older than him and in his second year at the New Republic Naval Academy. His mother and Poe’s parents had been acquaintances through the Organa-Solos, and they’d met on Poe’s homeworld, Yavin IV. Despite all of Jacen’s joking that he had been born on his mother’s ship, the _Ghost_ , he has as much an attachment to Lothal as Poe did to Yavin IV. There was no point to flying, Jacen said, if you had nowhere to fly to.

In Poe’s opinion, Jacen was the best pilot in the galaxy, certainly the best pilot that Poe knew.

“Catch up, Starkid!”

Jacen’s speeder bike flashed ahead of Poe’s, his wild green braids dancing like vapor trails behind him.

“Better watch yourself, Specter Seven!” Poe flattened himself against his handlebars and kicked the accelerator pedal down, rocketing up one side of the alley they were racing through. His headlight flickered as he nearly landed right on top of Jacen and skidded clumsily along.

Jacen laughed. “Nice.”

“Shut up.”

Poe knew their nightly course by heart, ever since Jacen had showed it to him last year. He’d picked out the quietest, least populated streets in Republic City and turned them into their own private racetrack. Never mind the red-light districts and underground racing clans that would jump at the chance of betting on either one of them – if either of their upstanding Alliance parents found out about their borderline-illegal hobby, someone was bound to lose a vital organ. It was always better to break the rules without breaking the law when you could, so they steered clear of the racing gangs and kept to themselves.

And, for that matter, away from the urban bustle that never seemed to let Republic City sleep. If there was one thing Jacen understood without saying anything, it was homesickness. Both of them belonged under the stars, not the city lights. Between their private alleys, at least, they could let each other pretend.

Poe loved him for it.

Neck and neck until the end, Jacen swung his bike to a stop just barely before Poe did. He flashed a lopsided grin as he pushed his goggles up on his forehead, trapping a few stray strands of wavy green hair. “That was fun.”

Poe let his own goggles fall around his neck and unstrapped his fingerless gloves. “I am definitely going to get you next time.” He powered down his bike and flung one of the gloves in Jacen’s direction.

Jacen held up a hand and stopped the glove mid-air, wiggling his fingers. _“You will not win next time.”_

“Nice try.” Poe crossed his arms and smirked. “Admit it, Specter, you have no idea how to do that Jedi mind-trick thing.”

Jacen shrugged and waved his hand, tossing the glove back in Poe’s face. “I’ll figure it out one of these days.”

“Sure, sure.” Poe dropped his voice and mimicked Jacen’s Core accent, waving his hands around. _“You will hit yourself in the face. You will tie your laces together. You will hand me a marker and pass out now.”_ He swung his legs over the side of his bike so that he was facing Jacen and returned to his normal tone. “How’s Academy?”

Jacen twirled the end of one his braids in his fingers. He’d always been bothered by the fact that his lekku had never properly seemed to come in, so he kept his hair in two messy braids instead. He never tied them off, though, probably so he could weave and unweave them freely. Poe often caught Jacen twisting stray locks into thin braids and attempting to tuck them somewhere into the mother braids to the point where they both assumed he was secretly half-Alderaanian.

“Same old,” said Jacen. “Second year’s all right. Different, I guess, but all right. How’re you doing?”

Poe rolled his eyes. “Regular school, you mean? Boring and kriffy. I can’t wait to get into the Academy with you. I hardly even get much time to fly anymore.”

Jacen shrugged and punched Poe’s shoulder. “I bet by the time you get in, I’ll already be gone.”

“Yeah, right.”

Jacen raised an eyebrow, and Poe’s face fell. “Serious?”

“Meh. Sixty-two and a half percent.”

“I thought the Senate was handling the Outer Rim attacks.”

“If by ‘handling’ you mean sitting around a HoloPoint slide arguing about taxes while Imperial wannabes go blow shit up in the Colonies,” Jacen scoffed, “then the Senate is doing a fantastic job of handling things. Two more attacks this past cycle. Mom says she thinks the Senate’s been trying to hide it from media coverage, especially since it doesn’t look like the Navy has enough resources to answer every attack. I mean, if she didn’t tell me, Zeb or Alex would let me know anyway.”

Poe chewed his lip and fingered the chain around his neck where his mother’s ring hung. “How bad is it?”

“Well, no one’s seen Antilles or Ackbar for at least a couple of weeks now, and Mom’s been on and off Chandrila for about that long,” Jacen said. “Other than that, I’ve got nothing. How about on the home front?”

Poe gave Jacen a pointed look. “You know my dad doesn’t tell me about this kind of stuff.”

Jacen shrugged sympathetically. “He’s probably just trying to look out for you. No point in knowing stuff if you can’t really do anything about it, I guess.”

“Then why tell me?” At Jacen’s silence, Poe tucked his knees under his chin, tilting his eyes to the starless sky above, watching the speeder lanes drift by. “There’s so much kriffing light pollution out here.”

“Tell me about it.” Jacen crossed the distance between them and situated himself between Poe’s handlebars. “It’s like there’s a constant cloud above this city.”

“How far out before you think we can see through it?” Poe already knew Jacen’s answer, but he asked again anyway.

Jacen smiled knowingly. “Four light-years past Cardota and half a parsec towards Corellia. So much light in this system, it doesn’t even need a sun.” He unslung a satchel from his back and fished out a couple of containers. “Meiloorun?”

“Hell, yes.” Poe pried open one of the containers and popped a meiloorun slice in his mouth. Jacen unclasped his own container and levitated a piece into his mouth. Poe glared at him. “Show-off.”

“A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense or whatever.” Jacen pointedly suspended another meiloorun slice in the air before seemingly swallowing it whole. “I use the Force for convenience and so that I don’t get juice all over my fingers.”

“Yeah?” A sly smirk spread over Poe’s face. “Think fast!” He plunged his hand into his own container, drenching his fingers in the sticky meiloorun juice before swiping his hand across Jacen’s cheek.

“What – oof – hey!” Jacen swatted Poe away. He attempted to avenge himself, but Poe dodged, and Jacen wound up with a large stain on the sleeve of his myrtle-green bomber jacket. It wasn’t exactly noticeable among the other stains and stitches of time (half the left sleeve was actually missing, but no one knew why or how), but Jacen pretended to pout anyway. “This is literally my favorite jacket.”

“That is literally your only jacket.”

“Hey, I have other jackets.” Jacen began to count them off on his fingers. “There’s that nice black one that I never wear, there’s that old one of Alex’s that he got me for my Naming Day, there’s that other old one that I outgrew that Mom gave you – huh. Guess you’re right.” Jacen glanced sheepishly at his bomber jacket, dusting off the sleeves.

Poe gave a low whistle. “Jacen Syndulla admits _I’m_ right about something? Well, this galaxy is definitely going to explode in the next hour. Nice knowing you.” At the look Jacen gave him, though, he softened. “Sorry.” He looked back up at the sky, squinting at the suggestion of the stars beyond. “Do you think we’re gonna be okay?”

“You I’m not worried about,” Jacen said. He sighed. “Sometimes, though, I just wonder if I’m even doing the right thing by being at the Academy.”

Poe stared at his friend incredulously. “Well, if you weren’t at the Academy, what would you do with your life?”

“See, that’s just the thing, Starkid.” Jacen stood up and crossed his arms. “Kids like you and me, we were born and raised rebels. Our families don’t know how _not_ to fight, and there they are, trying for peace. As for us, we don’t have a choice in which side we take, we just…” Jacen scratched his head. “Look, I’m not trying to say our parents are doing the wrong thing. They’re fighting the good fight. It’s just…”

“No, I think you have a point.”

“Really?”

“Sort of.” Poe stood, too. He toyed with the thin chain around his neck, touching his mother’s ring under his shirt. “I mean, my dad always tells me he grew up carrying around a blaster so that I wouldn’t have to, but he still taught me how to fry capacitator charges and shoot. It’s like the war never really ended for him, especially after my mom died. We were always moving around, going to this planet and that, wherever the Rebellion needed him. He’d always say it was for a reason, but he’d also tell me that it wasn’t my fight. And I don’t really get that, you know? I mean, I get it, if you’re going to do anything, you’ve gotta stick it out and see it through to the end. Still, though, it’s tough when no one around really gets what it’s like. Besides you, of course.”

Jacen offered a wry smile. “Yeah, you too.” He twirled one of his braids again. “The Academy… you know, there’s people from all over the galaxy there.”

“Yeah.”

“Some of them are ex-Rebel, like us.”

“Yeah.”

“And some of them are ex-Imperial. Not like us.”

“Yeah?”

“And it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Jacen tossed his head back, shaking out his hair. “And yet, someone some _where_ has to go and make a fuss about things, and then we’re all back to where we started.”

“If anyone out there’s giving you a hard time,” Poe said, “I will fight the whole New Republic Navy with nothing but this bike and a meiloorun.”

Jacen’s eyes lit up with a smile that couldn’t convince his lips to move. “Good luck with that.”

Poe tapped Jacen’s arm. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Right, except I’d actually stand a chance.” Jacen tilted his head and waved his hand slightly. _“You all will exit your ships and bring Commander Lieutenant Admiral Captain General Professor of the Navy Syndulla a lifetime supply of meilooruns.”_

“All’a’y’all’ll,” Poe corrected.

Jacen laughed. “Rim boy.”

“All’a’y’all’ll.”

Jacen stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Ah, well, one hour a time, right?”

“One day at a time,” Poe answered. He swept a hand through his hair and punched Jacen’s arm again, just for good measure. Jacen jabbed him back, and they carried on a half-hearted sparring bout before Jacen returned to his own bike. He raised his hand, and the two now-empty meiloorun containers shut themselves in his satchel.

“Ready to head back?”

“Never.”

“I know.” Jacen swung a leg over his bike and powered up its engines. “Race you back, Starkid.”

“You’re on, Specter Seven.” When Poe fired up his own engines, though, a sudden wave of nausea hit him like a freight cruiser. He grimaced, trying to blink away the spots in his vision.

“All right, on three. One... two… Starkid? Hey, Poe, you all right?”

Poe’s response was falling off his bike. Jacen hurriedly powered down both bikes before helping Poe sit up. “You okay?”

“The hell was in that fruit, Syndulla?” A spasm hit Poe’s stomach, and he rolled on his side and gagged.

“Hey, hey, you’ll be okay.” Jacen rubbed Poe’s back as the younger teen retched without vomiting. “I’ve got you – Poe? Hey, stay with me, Dameron. Starkid? Poe!”

Poe waved Jacen off as he forced himself to sit up. He inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to choke on his own breath again. The alley around them swam in dizzy circles, and Jacen’s concerned face flitted in and out of view. Something inside burned, but Poe couldn’t quite identify what it was. If it was possible to have a headache all over, Poe was definitely experiencing that.

Jacen’s comm had somehow appeared in his hand. “Hold still. I’ll call –”

Poe tried to grab the comm. “Wait – don’t – we’re gonna get in trouble –”

“Do I look like I care about that?” Jacen retorted. Still, he lowered the comm and held Poe’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Poe wanted to shake his head, but he wound up just leaning to one side. “I’ve been better.”

“I don’t think you developed a sudden allergy to meilooruns.”

“Maybe I’m – allergic to your – Jedi mind tricks –” Poe managed. He held onto Jacen’s shoulder and staggered to his feet, Jacen’s arm around his waist. His legs felt weak, like he’d just run for four hours straight. _“Kriff.”_

“I really think we should call someone,” Jacen said. “At least get you looked at.”

“’M fine,” Poe insisted. He groped at the air. “M’bike.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Jacen instead guided Poe to his own speeder bike. “I’ll tow yours home, but you’re riding with me. No way you’re driving, not right now. Yours is suspension, right?”

Poe couldn’t really protest as he watched Jacen lock their bikes together in a suspension towing field. Jacen experimentally shoved Poe’s bike to make sure the field would hold, then hopped on his bike. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

“’M gonna be fine,” Poe mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, now get on before you pass out.” Jacen scooted back a little bit, making room for Poe to sit in front of him. “Don’t fall off, okay?”

Poe grimaced as another wave of nausea threatened to spill from his insides. The beginnings of a headache threatened to burn near the nape of his neck. “No promises.”

“I’ll go slow,” Jacen promised. “All right, here we go.”

Jacen gently nudged his speeder bike forward, his feet tapping against the ground until the bike had gained enough momentum and lift. His arms came around either side of Poe, not quite touching him, but not quite _not_ touching him, either.

“Your bike is pretty,” Poe said abruptly. It wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say, but it was more an observation than an opinion. Jacen’s speeder was painted in varying shades of orange, purple, and green, with swirling fluorescent highlights. Starbirds and loth-wolves chased each other through glyphs and abstract shapes on the handlebars, tumbling down to depictions of Rebellion-era dogfights across the rest of the body. Poe hadn’t really noticed the artwork before. Well, he’d seen the highlights, but he’d never really paid attention to the level of intricacy and artistry that blanketed Jacen’s speeder.

“I know,” Jacen said behind him. “Remind me to decorate yours later.”

“Okay.” Poe leaned back against him. The air felt cool and light on his face, drying the sweat on his brow he hadn’t even realized was there. After fumbling a little bit, he managed to open his collar, and the wind blew gently against his neck. “This is nice.”

He could almost hear Jacen’s smirk. “Two bros, sitting on a speeder zero inches apart because one of them developed a sudden allergy to the other’s half-assed attempts at mind-tricking him.”

Poe’s headache persisted, but at least the nausea had mostly disappeared. He looked around as best he could without upsetting the burning feeling behind his eyes. “We could go up a lane or two.”

“Okay, hang on.” Jacen glanced up at the semi-occupied spacelanes above them and kicked his bike up. Driving at night was always easier than navigating the perpetually packed lanes during the day. Republic City was notorious for its impeccably leveled lanes, which made free-flying without a permit extremely difficult. Added to the fact that nearly all the buildings were at least two hundred stories, it was enough to make anyone claustrophobic. If there was anything that Poe particularly missed about Yavin IV, it was the constant woodland smell in the air. He missed trees and the omnipresent feeling of life that held his homeworld. Hosnian Prime, on the other hand, smelled dead, manufactured, busy. The only plants Poe had ever seen on this over-urbanized planet were decorative shrubs in cramped vases.

Poe could see his apartment building a few blocks down and the landing platform for the level he lived on. Jacen had come by often enough and knew the way, deftly landing on one side and unlocking the suspension field between their speeder bikes. He didn’t have to, but he extended a hand to Poe and helped him off his bike.

“I’ll take care of the bikes,” Jacen whispered. “Just get inside. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” a new voice said loudly.

Poe and Jacen froze simultaneously as a figure strode across the landing platform, his arms crossed. His eyebrows were raised curiously, but his eyes held the stern flame of disappointment. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Sergeant Major?” Jacen said incredulously.

Poe tried to smile. “Hi, Dad. Uh, weren’t you coming home tomorrow night?”

Kes Dameron was not amused. “Jacen. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Oh,” said Poe. “Interesting story, actually–”

Jacen cut him off. “Sir, I could explain–”

“At ease, kid.” Kes waved a hand. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly valid reason as to why both of you are awake and talking to me on this platform right now. I’m just curious to know what might be so _interesting_ that it requires the two of you sneaking out on speeder bikes at oh-three-hundred hours.” He turned to Poe. “You’re lucky I caught you two, and not someone from the Academy. Do you have any idea how suspicious this looks? Don’t think I don’t know about the racing gangs downtown.”

“Dad, it’s not like that at all–”

_“No me levantes la voz, Poe.”_

“I _wasn’t_ –” Poe winced and clutched Jacen’s untorn sleeve as his burning headache attacked him again. He hoped Jacen wouldn’t notice, but no such luck.

“You okay?” Jacen said quietly.

Kes’ brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Poe said, at the same time Jacen said, “He got sick on the way back.”

“No, I _didn’t_ ,” Poe insisted, hoping Jacen would take the hint. “I’m not sick.”

“Says the guy who threw up all over his own speeder.”

“I didn’t _actually_ throw up, I just wasn’t feeling great for a bit.”

“I had to tow you home!”

“You were overreacting!”

“I wasn’t going to let you drive a bike when you almost passed out on me!”

“I was fine, okay?”

“Boys!” Kes snapped. He sighed loudly and grit his teeth. “Jacen. The whole story. Now.”

“Dad, I–”

“I asked Jacen,” Kes said coldly to his son. “I’ll let you know when I want to hear from you.” He turned back to Jacen. “This better not be some clever act to get out of trouble.”

“It’s not, sir, I swear it,” Jacen said. With a reluctant look at Poe, he began to recount their meeting that night. He left out most of the details of their conversation, and Poe was smart enough to keep quiet while Jacen described his sudden fit of illness. Kes’ expression was stony as Jacen hastily added, “It was my idea to go out in the first place.”

Kes seemed to ignore Jacen’s final comment and walked over to Poe. Poe flinched slightly as his father felt his forehead and around his neck. Kes’ hands were warm but rough, and the burning sensation under Poe’s skin seemed to follow his father’s touch. The anger in his countenance was gradually replaced by concern, and the shadow of worry laced his voice when he asked, “Am I hurting you?”

“Dad, I’m fine,” Poe insisted. “I probably just got some velocity sickness there and back or something. Probably deserved that for sneaking out, right?” He pushed his father’s hands away, and the burning retreated back to its spot just behind Poe’s eyes. A sharp pain jolted in his knee, but he tried to ignore it.

“Poe, can you look at me?”

“Sure.”

“Poe, _mírame._ ”

“I _am._ ”

Poe caught a nervous glance between his father and Jacen. “What?”

“You’re still not off the hook, _mijo_ ,” Kes said, “but at least you’re not faking it. Come on, let’s get you a painkiller or something. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” To Jacen, he said, “Get on back before the Academy realizes you’re gone.”

“You’re not going to report me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Kes said warningly. “We’ve got enough on our hands as it is without worrying about teenagers being teenagers, but that is _not_ permission to keep up whatever it is you were doing. I don’t want to repeat this conversation with your mother.”

Jacen nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Go home, kid.”

Jacen had just hopped onto his bike again when dizziness struck Poe like lightning. The lights of the landing platform mixed into unknowable constellations. It was like floating in space – there was no telling which way was up. Poe blinked, turned, and smacked his face against the floor. “Ow.”

“Poe!”

Poe couldn’t tell who was speaking, but whoever it was needed to stop yelling. He waved a hand in the general direction of the voice and wound up hitting the floor again. “Who put the floor here?”

“Jacen, call nern-osk.”

“Yes, sir.”

He was lifted into someone’s arms. “Poe, _¿p_ _uedes escucharme?”_

“Mm-hm.”

“ _¿Cuantos dedos_ _?”_

“Uh...” Poe squinted. For some reason, he didn’t feel like counting. He closed his eyes, willing his headache away. At least the meilooruns weren’t trying to come up again. He picked a random number. _“_ _¿_ _Tres?”_

A hand held his shoulder. “ _Aguanta ahí, mijo._ Hang on, okay?”

Jacen was saying something incomprehensible in Basic. Poe looked in his friend’s direction, willing him to shut up. Why was Jacen sideways? Poe tried to sit up, but every time he moved, the lights swung around in a sickening dance. He closed his eyes instead and pushed himself up on his knees, holding the side of his head. “ _Tengo sueño...”_

“Stay awake, Poe,” Kes urged. “Jacen! Was he this bad earlier?”

“’M not Jacen,” Poe muttered, then surrendered to sleep.

\-----

Poe woke as though he hadn’t slept at all. He didn’t open his eyes, though. That took too much effort, so he opted to roll over and try to go back to sleep. He couldn’t, though. There was something on, no, _in_ , his arm. He tried to shake it out, but his whole body felt heavy.

“Poe?”

The sound of his father’s voice urged Poe to open his eyes. “Dad?”

Kes was hugging his son before Poe could really grasp what was going on. “Oh, _mijo...”_

“What happened?” Poe blinked a few times as his father pulled away. He was in an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed. The lights above were thankfully dim, but there was a soft beeping noise that refused to go away. “Can you turn that off?”

“That’s a vitals monitor, Poe,” Kes said gently. “We can’t exactly turn it off.”

“Great.” Poe turned his head to the other side, only to be met by a tall bipedal droid. “Gah!”

“I did not mean to alarm you,” the droid said. Its voice was quiet and androgynous, somewhere between calm and solemn. “I am Two-One-Bee-Mu-Tau, but you may call me Met. You have been in my care for the past nine hours.”

“Nine hours?”

“Your father and friend brought you in at oh-three-twenty-two,” Met said. “It is now twelve-thirty-seven. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, I think.” Poe slowly sat up. His headache was mostly gone, but his skin felt hot, as though he had spent too long in a Hothian sauna. He blinked a few more times and gave himself a mental once-over. He was terribly warm, but he didn’t feel feverish or sweaty. “It’s really hot in here.”

“Poe, it’s not the room,” Kes said slowly. “It’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Upon your arrival, I noticed you were exhibiting severe nausea, dizziness, and sudden migraine symptoms,” Met intoned. “Your father mentioned that you and a friend had been driving speeder bikes just a few moments earlier, and that you have a long history of childhood spaceflight. As such, I deemed it necessary to run a blood test to confirm a diagnosis for _aimacella ignifericium_ , colloquially known as bloodburn.”

“Bloodburn?” The bottom fell out of Poe’s stomach. “No, you must have made some kind of mistake. Jacen and I were just messing around – there’s no way – I can’t – we just –”

“I know this must be distressing for you,” Met said sympathetically. “Your father told me about your dreams of entering the Naval Academy and becoming a fighter pilot. I wish it were possible that you might still –”

“Stop,” Poe whispered.

“It is still possible to maintain an active lifestyle even with bloodburn, even if space travel is a limited option,” Met said instead. “For example –”

“Stop talking. Please. Just – stop, please.”

“I understand this is coming as a terrible shock –”

“If you don’t shut up, I will shut you down myself.”

“Poe –”

Poe pushed his father away. “Both of you, please, just – just leave me alone!” He hated how his voice broke and stared up at the ceiling instead. His hand grasped at the spot under his shirt where his mother’s ring was supposed to be, but he came up empty. They’d probably taken the chain off for whatever procedure they had to do to stabilize him, but his mother’s missing ring was Poe’s breaking point. He could hear his own heart rate increase as his breath came in short, fast, tearful gulps.

Kes squeezed Poe’s hand as Poe tried to cover his face with his other arm. He couldn’t move it very far because of the IV line, though, and he wept into his pillow. 

_I’m not sick_ , he thought in a desperate attempt to convince himself. _I’m not sick. I will wake up tomorrow morning, and I will be okay. This is all just a bad dream. I’m not sick. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay...._

It worked just as well as Jacen’s mind tricks.


End file.
